


I'll be right beside you dear

by asamandra



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Character Death, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: When Hydra sent the Soldier to kill Howard and Maria Stark, he didn't expect their little son in the back of the car. And he definitely didn't expect something like remorse. The Soldier knows just one thing, he can't give the boy to his handlers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from Snow Patrol's "Run".

**December 16, 1971**

 

“Zhelanye.” 

When they got him he was cold. They had thawed him mere minutes ago but as soon as he was _fit enough_ two men came to fetch him. They dragged him along the corridors to the door he dreaded.

“Rzhavyy.” 

They sat him into the chair and the cuffs snapped in position, tied his arms to the sides, his body to the chair. He knew pain would follow.

“Semnadtsat’.”

The machine started to hum and his breathing sped up. 

“Rassvet.” 

He screamed and screamed and screamed. And when the pain stopped someone came to him, hunkered down beside him and smiled.

“Pech’.”

The man started to talk to him in Russian, said words and his breathing sped up again, his heart beat like a sledgehammer in his chest and he wanted to get away. He needed to get away.

“Devyat’.” 

It hurt! His brain hurt!

“Dobroserdechnyy.” 

He screamed into the bit they had forced into his mouth.

“Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu.” 

He struggled against the cuffs that held him in the chair. He hated the words. They made him do _things_ , separated him from his body.

“Odin.” 

He could feel his consciousness slip away into that hated state of mind. 

“Gruzovoy vagon.” 

One last time he tried to break free but the cuffs were strong and held him relentless.

“Dobroye utro, soldat.”

He slumped down, breathed hard and the man in front of him smiled. He looked up at him.

“YA gotov otvechat’.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Soldier knew, the car would come soon. His handler had told him that they would come, had to come this way. He sat on a motorcycle and waited for them. No one could see him, he was hidden behind some trees. The road was empty. It was a private road and usually only his marks used it. Today they were out and his handler had told him they would come soon.

He checked his gun and put it away when he finally heard a car. It was them. 

He started the engine and waited for them to pass him before he followed them. A few moments later, when he saw a few promising trees at the side, he sped up, passed the car on the right side. The woman on the passenger’s seat looked at him, her eyes wide and he used his artificial arm to hit the side of the car. The driver startled, jerked the steering wheel around and the car hit one of the trees frontally. The engine caught fire and the Soldier stopped the bike, turned around and drove back. He parked it, unmounted and went to the trunk. He opened it and saw the briefcase and looked in it. Five bags with a blue liquid were in it, the stuff he should retrieve. He closed the briefcase and took it out of the trunk. 

The driver had managed to crawl out of the car, a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing an expensive suit. He bled and was clearly in a great deal of pain. “Please, help my wife,” he groaned. The Soldier put the briefcase down and went over to him. “Please, help,” he begged. The Soldier grabbed him at his hair and pulled him up. The man looked at him and his eyes went wide. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” He asked. The Soldier frowned. He had no idea who this Sergeant Barnes was and why he called him that. He was the Soldier and he had a mission. Two hard hits in the face with his artificial arm finished him off. He dragged him over to the car, put him back in the driver’s seat so that it would look as if he died in the car accident. The woman beside him panted. She was in pain, too, bled and gasped, “Howard!” 

The Soldier ignored it, walked around the car and grabbed her at her throat with his flesh and blood hand. “Tony!” He crushed her trachea without even looking at her, it wasn’t too difficult. She was weak and he was strong. When she stopped struggling, he removed his hand and just wanted to go back to the trunk when he heard a noise he didn’t expect. A crying baby. 

The soldier stopped in his stride and looked into the car. In the back in one of those seats sat a small child, maybe half a year old and cried. He blinked. No one told him about a baby. He had no… no instructions how to proceed with the child. He blinked again. The baby cried, the small face red, its mouth wide open and tears ran over its face. The two people were his mission, he had had instructions how to proceed but he had no idea what to do with the baby. He could walk away, leave it in the car to die together with its parents. 

He looked at the baby again, it still cried heartbreakingly and he just stared at it for a very long moment. Something… something stirred. A flash, a… a memory? A small girl in the hands of a young boy, he smiled happily at the baby. 

The soldier blinked again and again. A muscle started to twitch on his chin and he couldn’t avert his eyes. The baby was in distress and it needed someone. Its mother. But the woman sat dead on the passenger’s seat. He looked at the two people he had just killed. They had a baby and now… now the baby was alone and it cried. Maybe it was hungry, maybe it was frightened. 

Another flash… a woman smiled at the boy, at the baby in his arms, caressed his cheek and the boy felt… proud? 

Someone needed to take care of the baby, someone… but no one was here. No one but him. But he had a mission. He was supposed to bring the blue liquid to his handlers. But the baby would die if he left it here in the car. It would die and it… it would be his fault. He blinked again and reached out for the car, opened the back door and realized, that his hand - his flesh and blood hand - trembled slightly. 

Someone needed to take care of the baby. Someone… but he was the only person here and so he opened the door, reached out for the baby and run his thumb over his cheek. The crying subsided a little bit and the baby looked at him. 

In an instant the Soldier came to a decision. He removed the child from the seat in the back of the car and took it in his arm. The baby still cried but when he stroked it, it quietened down. He found a tiny baby blanket in the back of the car, took it, wrapped it around the shivering child and held it close to his body. 

_Tony_. The woman had said the name. Was that the baby’s name? The baby’s hand reached out, grabbed a strand of the soldier’s hair and held it. 

_’You’re a big brother now, James,’_ a woman had said and the boy smiled at the baby in his arms. He was so proud to be a big brother and he would protect his sister come hell or high water. 

He needed to protect the baby. He didn’t have instructions but little babies needed to be protected. Maybe his handlers knew, what to do with the baby, the boy, Tony. 

The Soldier walked, with the baby in his arms, to the back of the car, took the briefcase, shot at the security camera close-by and went to his motorcycle. But then he frowned. He couldn’t drive with the baby and the briefcase. His bike had saddlebags where he could put the briefcase in but not the baby. Once again he looked around, saw the scarf the woman wore and for a moment he hesitated, but then he removed it and put it around his neck, wrapped it around the baby and tied it in his back. It looked ridiculous, but he could drive and the baby was close to him where he could protect it. 

He mounted the motorcycle, started the engine and - without looking back at the car - drove away. 

The boy was fallen asleep on his chest and not even the loud noises from the motorcycle woke him up. He still clutched the Soldier’s hair but his eyes were closed and he breathed softly. 

He didn’t need to drive far, his handlers waited for him at the end of the road in a van. The Soldier stopped the bike before they could see him, watched the van for a long moment and then looked at the sleeping baby. He should give the boy to them, they knew what to do with him. Maybe he would become a weapon, too, just like him. The Soldier frowned. The boy was innocent, he didn’t deserve to become like him, he deserved… better. He deserved someone who could protect him, someone who would take care of him, someone who… loved him? He blinked a few times again. 

_‘Do you love your little sister, James?’_ the woman asked and the little boy nodded eagerly. 

The baby needed someone who would care for him and his handlers… his handlers wouldn’t. They would turn him into something… something like him. The boy’s mouth moved slightly but he didn’t wake up, didn’t make a noise. 

These men, they would hurt him, would break him, would shape him into something… something twisted. The Soldier looked from the baby to the van, back at the baby and back at the van and then he came to a decision. Quietly he dismounted, took the briefcase out of his saddlebags and placed it on the street before he started the engine again and drove away, the baby still tied close to his body, where it slept soundly, safe and protected. He deserved a chance and the Soldier would do everything to give that to him.


	3. Chapter 3

The Soldier sat on a chair in a cheap, not too clean motel room. After killing his marks he drove till day was breaking but he knew it became too dangerous and so he looked for a hidey hole. In a not too small town he saw the sign of a motel and drove behind the building, where he hid the bike. He carried the baby around and to the reception, booked a room and made sure no one saw them when he entered it. It was way too early, the other guests were still in their rooms. When he was inside he checked the room and locked the door. 

And now he had the boy placed onto the bed, where he slept. He would wake up soon, the Soldier knew that. 

He would need things, diapers, formula, a feeding bottle… clothes. But he couldn’t just take the baby and go shopping with him. He also needed clothes for himself. Black leather was functional and effective in a fight, but not on the run. And he _was_ on the run now. 

The baby wriggled slightly but he was still quiet. He had no idea what to do with a baby. He had no idea how to care for a baby. Maybe he should call his handlers and tell them where they were. They would take care of it and… of him, too. They would make him forget about it and… No! He couldn’t let them have the boy. He just couldn’t. The child was an orphan now and it was his fault. 

_‘James,’ the woman said and the boy looked up at her, ‘Steve’s mom is an angel now, darling. He’s an orphan and that’s why he will stay with us.’_

He jerked up and looked around, his eyes wide. The boy had started to whimper and struggled under the blankets. He was awake and probably hungry. The Soldier went over to him and then he could smell it. No, he needed a new diaper. He needed… he needed… a plan… someone who told him what to do. 

No one was here, he… he had to make a plan. It was his job now to take care of the boy and he… he needed new diapers. He couldn’t go to just one shop and buy all the stuff he needed, people would notice. 

The boy’s cries became louder and he wriggled around on the bed, his face turned red. The Soldier rose. He needed diapers and to buy them he needed more money. He still had Howard Stark’s wallet with some money in it and quite a few credit cards but he could use them, everyone knew Stark, the Soldier knew that. He needed to get money. And he needed inconspicuous clothes. The leather combat dress was too… well… noticeable. And he needed a car. He couldn’t ride his bike with a baby tied to his chest all the time. So, first things first. 

He wrapped the crying baby in the scarf again, left the motel room and went to his bike. He had seen a used car dealer on his way to the motel and maybe he could swap the bike there for an older car and maybe a little money. The bike was relatively new, state of the art and all that. 

An hour later he sat in a ten years old, slightly battered VW Beetle, the boy still whining, but now lying comfortably on the passenger’s seat. The salesman took the bike, gave him the car and even some money. The Soldier knew, that he shortchanged him but that didn’t matter, he had money and a car and that was everything that counted right now. 

So he let it go at that, he didn’t need more attention than he already had and he just drove away. In a department store he bought some clothes for him, for the boy and some diapers. He changed them in the car and was astounded, that he knew how to do that. It was almost as if he had done that before. But why on earth would Hydra teach him how to change diapers? Maybe it was something he did… before?

_‘James, mommy needs to change Becca’s diapers, don’t stand in the way.’_

_‘But I want to help, mommy!’_

He stopped and blinked. Once again a… a memory? 

Before he left the store he went to buy a few notebooks and pencils. He needed to write those memories down. Maybe they would make sense sometime. 

In another store he bought formula and a baby bottle, in a third store he bought a baby car seat and all the other stuff he needed. When he had asked the shop assistant about the formula she looked at him weird, but he told her the boy was his sister’s and she had to stay in the hospital and now he had to take care of the baby. She still looked weirdly at him, but at least she explained which one he needed and how to use it.

He would have to leave the town next morning, he realized. He bought some food and water in a grocery store and drove back to the motel. The boy had started to cry again but when he looked around in his room he discovered the next problem. The shop assistant had told him he needed warm water for the formula but he didn’t have a kettle or anything to warm it up. 

For a moment he thought it’d been a really dumb idea to take the child, he should’ve given it to his handlers but then he shook his head vehemently. They would turn him in a weapon, too, and the boy was innocent, he didn’t deserve that. He left his room with the crying baby and a bag with some stuff, looked around outside of the motel… and spotted a bar not far away.

“This is a really dumb idea,” he muttered under his breath, but he didn’t have a better one. So he jogged over the street with the boy on his arm, walked to the door and opened it. 

Not many people were there yet and the barkeeper raised his brow when he saw the child. 

“Can I have some warm water?” The Soldier asked the man and his second brow met the first one up at his hairline. 

“You’re kidding, right?” the man asked. He looked around the bar, gestured with both hands. “We don’t cater to babies.” 

“I just need some warm water,” the Soldier repeated. “And a beer,” he added when the barkeeper cocked his head. 

The man scrutinized him for a very long moment but then he shook his head, filled a glass with beer and shoved it to the Soldier before he took the offered baby bottle, went to the back of the bar and came back only a minute later with warm water. 

The Soldier took a sip from his beer, frowned and tried to remember when he had his last beer… or if he ever had one before. But then he started to prepare the bottle for Tony one-handed. It wasn’t easy but first, he didn’t want to put the boy down and second, he didn’t want them to see his metal arm. He tested the warmth of the formula on his own lip before he started to feed Tony. The boy started to suckle as soon as the teat touched his lips and the Soldier couldn’t hold back a proud smile. When the bottle was empty he put it down beside his glass and moved the boy so he could burp while he emptied his beer, payed the barkeeper and gave him a generous tip, grabbed his stuff and left the bar. 

“What do you think about leaving immediately, Tony?” he asked the baby. The boy looked at him, yawned and smacked his lips a few times. “Yes, I also think it’s a good idea.” 

Half an hour later he was on the road again.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course the Soldier had seen all the Christmas decorations everywhere, he had heard the Christmas music but somehow he could put it aside. But then - out of the blue - it was Christmas Eve and he sat in his motel room with little Tony. The boy was probably half a year old and this was his first Christmas ever and he had to spend it with a stranger, who had killed his parents and had almost killed him. 

He went to the window and stared out onto the streets. It was dark already and not many people were on the streets anymore. They probably were with their families to celebrate. 

He had no idea what to do, he couldn’t sleep and so he just wrapped little Tony in his thick jacket, put on a hat and a tiny scarf and tiny gloves and the tiny shoes he had bought and left the motel room together with him. A little bit fresh air couldn’t hurt and he got stir crazy already from just sitting around and waiting. 

Maybe he should buy a baby buggy, too. But for now he would carry the boy. His head lay against the Soldier’s shoulder and he breathed evenly. He had fed him, had bathed him in the sink in the bathroom and had changed his diapers and now that they had left the motel, he fell asleep very fast. 

The Soldier just wanted to walk around the block and then put him in the bed but when he was almost back he could hear music play. Christmas music. A Catholic church was on the other side of the street. He looked at his watch and realized, the Christmas Eve midnight mass had just begun. A few people hurried over and sneaked in and the Soldier stared at the door. 

_”Come on, Bucky! It doesn’t hurt. And it’s good for your soul. We both know it’s not Christmas without the midnight mass.”_

He deliberated for a long moment but then he crossed the street, too, opened the door and went in. It was warm inside and the church was filled to the brim. People sat in benches, some of them stood in the back because all the seats were taken already and a man in a suit just read the lesson. 

Little Tony moved a bit on his arm and a woman looked at him, saw the baby, frowned but then smiled when Tony smacked his lips a bit. The Soldier smiled back. 

It was weird. He couldn’t remember being in a church before but somehow he knew what to do, what to say, when to rise, when to kneel, he even knew the prayers and some of the songs as if he’d been in church regularly. Tony slept the whole time and only when the mass was over and everyone left the church and the priest waited outside to wish the people a Merry Christmas the boy moved. When the priest saw the little boy he smiled, put his hand on his forehead and drew the sign of the cross on it. 

“Merry Christmas to you and your son,” he said and shook the Soldier’s hand. 

He looked at it for a moment but then he nodded and smiled.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

***

The next few weeks he managed to start something like a routine. In the mornings he fed the baby, changed his diapers and went with him to a diner to get some food for the two of them - yes, he still hadn’t found a proper solution for the hot water thing - before they hit the road again. He only stopped for gas or when the boy was hungry or needed a new diaper. He had started to get used to him and didn’t cry so often anymore. As soon as it got dark he searched for a motel where he spent some time to play with little Tony before he went to a diner again. When they both had eaten he bathed the boy and put him to bed, where he lay beside him and guarded him in his sleep. The Soldier was a light sleeper and he had his gun always within reach.

A few days after his disappearance he had seen some guys in suits in the motel he had chosen for the night, walking up the receptionist and the Soldier had grabbed his stuff hastily, fled through the window and barely managed to get to his car. So they were still after him - them - and he was extremely careful not to leave traces since then. 

It was difficult because the money he had left from selling the bike was almost gone and he had already had to steal a few wallets and felt pretty bad about it. Once he had helped the owner of a diner to carry some stuff from her house to a truck and got a little money for it while her daughter looked after little Tony. Sometimes he just stole the diapers and the formula and fortunately - for them - no one had noticed it until he was gone. He had even played billiard for money but the barkeepers didn’t like it when the baby was with him and he couldn’t leave him alone in the car or in the motel rooms. 

When people asked him he said his name was Steve. At first he had thought about telling them his name was James - after all it was the name from his memory flashes - but his handlers probably knew that name. The first name that came to his mind was from those flashes as well, but often accompanied by the face of a blond, not very healthy looking face. Steve. Apparently he knew a Steve at some point in his life. So, now he was Steve Jones - that name flashed through his mind, too - with his son Tony. 

He woke up this morning because the baby had started to cry. He went to him, took him on his arm and went with him to change the diapers. When he had him on his back on the bed, the boy started to smile at him, broad and toothless and… happy. The Soldier stopped and stared at him for a very long moment and he had to swallow a few times. He had killed the boy’s parents and now he smiled at him. A tear ran over his cheek and with the back of his human hand he wiped it away, the hand which had strangled the baby’s mom. He looked at his hand, at the child in front of him and when he started to giggle the Soldier bolted out of the room, into the small bathroom and leaned his back against the door. He breathed hard and his heart beat in his chest. 

From outside of the room he could hear the boy, babbling, then starting to cry. He lay on the bed, no diaper and probably cold. He should go out to him but his legs refused to work. These hands, the hands that held him so gently, that caressed him, washed him, dressed him, fed him… were the same hands that killed his parents. And the boy had just smiled at him. 

He had no idea how long he sat on the floor but at one point someone banged at the door, told him to get his brat to shut up or they would call the cops. The Soldier wasn’t ready to _face_ the baby, but he couldn’t risk that the guy called the police. With trembling hands he opened the door and went into the main room, saw Tony on the bed, tears staining his pretty little face, crying and wriggling around on the bed.

“Sorry, buddy,” he mumbled and sat down beside him and the boy actually calmed down. The Soldier put the new diaper on and dressed him, wrapped him in a blanket and held him close to his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he cried. The boy was quiet, he just breathed against his cheek. 

“I will make up for it,” the Soldier muttered after a while. “I promise you, I will take good care of you.” 

He had no idea how long he sat there, just holding the boy and stroking his back, when he started to whine a bit. The Soldier looked at him. 

“Hungry?” he asked and then he added, “Let’s go get some food, what do you think?” Tony still whined and the Soldier smiled. “Yeah, you think it’s a good idea.” He rose, put the boy in the baby sling and left the room with him. Two blocks away was a nice diner where he had eaten the day before. He went there, ordered coffee and pancakes for himself and hot water for Tony. The waitress brought the water immediately when she heard the boy whine and the Soldier smiled thankfully at her. He prepared his bottle and started to feed Tony when his food arrived, too. So with one hand he held the boy’s bottle while he ate his own food with the other hand. 

On his way back to the motel Tony had started to sleep and the Soldier absently stroked him in the sling. But just when he wanted enter the motel he saw a _inconspicuous_ black car in front of it and stopped dead in his tracks. _They_ had found him. He stared at the car for a long moment. One man stood beside it and he knew him, but he hadn’t seen him so far. He just stared at the door to the motel. 

The soldier patted his pants. He had the car keys with him, his wallet, too, but the bag with his and Tony’s clothes was still in the room, together with the diapers and some toys. He took a deep breath. He had to write that off but he could reach the car. Carefully to not attract too much attention he switched to the other side of the street, passed the black car and switched back to the side he’d been on. He always held his eyes on the black car and the guy in front of it, went to his old beetle and got in. He prayed to whatever deity was willing to listen right now that it would start and then turned the key in the ignition. And the car started on the first attempt. 

He released the breath he held in his lungs and merged into the traffic. The man in front of the motel looked along the street now and saw the car, but he didn’t move. Apparently he hadn’t seen _him_ inside. But nevertheless, it was time to switch the car.

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Buy me a coffee?](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/cVpZb5MXi)


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